


Anniversaries

by souh



Series: Life, Death, and what comes After [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/souh/pseuds/souh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes were TARDIS-blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversaries

His eyes were TARDIS-blue.  It was easy to pretend otherwise, perhaps, a deep robin egg blue or light cobalt, but he had seen this color so many times over his lifetime.  TARDIS-blue lit up and softened by the passing stars. 

She knew it too, the TARDIS did.  There was a room just for him, with a rumpled bed, a coffee machine, and a beautiful view of the stars passing.  The room was perfect for two.  One ghost and one shell of a man slowly trying to regrow a soul ripped away so long ago.

The coffee always tasted just the tiniest bit off, causing him to add the half teaspoon of sugar himself.  One day, maybe he would be able to brew it himself rather than wake to a full pot left by his ghost.  He knew it was the TARDIS, but every morning hurt just as much as the first, calling out his name, a prayer, a plea for that figure to appear.  It had been 500 years and he still dreamed of him.

 

~~~~~~~J&I, I&J~~~~~~~

 

The anniversary was the hardest.  Planet-side, he had been forced to make his own coffee.  1000 years by days and he still drank his coffee the same.  If any ingredients were missing, he went without.  In this day and age, that meant months, sometimes.  Long ago he had realized time would not stop, change would not stop.  He had bought fields of coffee, and dairies, and sugar plants, now antiquated, unchanging excepting for requirements by laws.  He sold the extra out of a nonprofit cafe that donated all sales to help those in need, called “Stopwatch”.  He never went to the shop after they started roasting the beans themselves.

He still had the jacket, too.  In the early years, he had been afraid of wear.  It had gone up next to one of Ianto’s suits after a close call with, ironically, a weevil.  They were preserved together now, the scents of the men tangled and intertwined in his mind’s eye, the soft suit encased inside of the chest of the jacket, a reflection of the owner’s heart.

 

~~~~~~~J&I, I&J~~~~~~~~

 

He wasn’t able to eat any longer.  His last sip of coffee was eons ago and his last mementos long since lost to time.  He imagines he can still taste it, that drink.  At least he can still pretend.  He hasn’t lost his tongue yet, only his body.  He can feel it.  No more anniversaries.  No more waiting.  Soon.  Soon, he will be home.


End file.
